Capo di Tutti Capi
by Marimo
Summary: Everyone knows what Luffyone's been up to these days. He's making room for himself in the upper ranks of the Five Families. He's gonna be the Capo di Tutti Capi. The supreme Don. The strongest Man in the Cosa Nostra. The King of the Mafia. Capisce?
1. Hit One

Another fanfic? What the heck is wrong with me? But I won't deny that writing this is way too much fun. Seriously. But anyway. Le Disko needs to be updated, I know. I dunno if i'm up to writing it anymore, though. xD Ah well.

This is, all the way, written for Sarah. Again. Poopface.

Edit:// Mooost of the little mistakes here have been fixed. I think. o.o

**Disclaimers and such:** I don't own One Piece. I just used the No Code-of-Honor Time short as reference for the names. I don't own the Godfather, or ... the mob in general. Wiki was used as reference points and traditional terminology and Italian will be used for this fic. Kthx.

Reviews would be awesome.

* * *

**Capo di Tutti Capi**

_Hit One_

* * *

There was a rumor going around New York City. 

They were saying that Don Luffyone was looking for some new associates.

And punk, you would only hear that rumor if you were in the right circles. The right families, you know what I'm saying?

And if you were in the said right families and circles, then you would most certainly know that to be offered a part in the Luffyone family is a big deal. _A very big deal_.

But don't be getting any ideas. You can't go seeking out Luffyone. No, you'll bring in fresh air, and _he doesn't like that_. Where do you think Don Crocodilo went last month? It wasn't out of town, buddy. He got a one-way trip to Six Feet Under and trust me, he ain't coming back.

The point is, if the Don wants you in his crew, _he'll_ come looking for _you_. And he'll find you, no doubt about that. Luffyone knows all of the right people and is even pretty tight with some cops up in Brooklyn. There isn't anywhere you'll be able to hide. But why do that?

Joining the Luffyone family is a high honor. The man is a true _Mafiosi_ member, gangster through and through. He's not much of a gentlemen, but he has enough manners to let you join the ride with him to the top.

'Cause _everyone_ knows what Luffyone's been up to these days. He's making room for himself in the upper ranks of the Five Families.

He's gonna be _Capo di Tutti Capi_. (1)

Boss of all Bosses. Supreme Don. The Strongest Man in the Cosa Nostra.

King of the Mafia.

* * *

Not all children grow up and decide they want to be members of a gang. Few wish to evolve from their petty teenage fist fights to full blown shell games. Little to none want any part in an organized crime organization. 

Zoroscia Roronoa was hardly any different. Raised in a modest section of New York, he spent the better part of his childhood going to school and coming home every night to have lengthy discussions with his father, like any normal teenager in the bright and shining year of 1945.

Roronoa Senior was a police officer who patrolled the rougher sides of New York City. Tall, broad shouldered, and sporting the same green hair that his son had inherited, Roronoa Sr. was a respected man. A good cop. With his loving wife and healthy, cheerful son and a promotion at work on the way, it appeared that life was getting good.

The officer taught young Zoroscia all he knew about New York street life. As much as his son's innocent little mind could handle. But Roronoa Junior's favorite topic wasn't NY life. It was weapons.

From machine guns to stealthy little butterfly knives, that was Zoroscia's passion. And his proud father was more than happy to lecture his only offspring. They started on hand guns, proceeded to machine guns, then into blades. Zoroscia absorbed everything with as much energy as boys his age could.

And so, life went on. Roronoa Senior became captain of his police squad and things improved for the Roronoas. But then the proud cop dug too deep one night. Went too far and stuck his nose where it didn't belong. He had turned his sharp eyes on the Five Families of New York and openly vowed to rid the city of any filth, mafia and other criminals alike.

Naturally, the Mafiosi didn't take kindly to such threats. They immediately set to buying off the police officer. Full of foolish pride, Captain Roronoa refused. Passer-bys heard him announcing that he'd rather die than accept such dirtied money from scum like the mafia.

That night, Roronoa and his wife set out to go see _On the Town_ on Broadway, reminding Zoroscia to get to bed on time and not stay up too late fiddling with his pocket knife.

The next morning, New York awakened to find the Roronoas, still in their best attire, shot down in a back-alley. Their bodies were riddled with bullets and soaked in blood. A gruesome site, indeed. And who did it?

No one had enough guts to point the finger at the obvious perpetrators.

"What a tragic loss!"

"They were such kind people!"

"And poor Zoroscia, left to fend for himself!"

"He was only 15, too!"

"It was their own fault. What were they thinking, meddling with the mob?"

"They were doomed from the start when Don Dragon got his hands on them."

"May the Roronoas rest in peace."

And so, the police closed off the case quickly, eager to set it away and forget the whole ordeal. No one wanted any part in the double murders. They knew better. And the mafia knew it, too. They owned the city, after all.

Soon, only memories remained of the poor Roronoas. It was a horrific loss, but nothing could be done. Life, once again, moved on for everyone.

... Everyone, that is, except Zoroscia Roronoa.

* * *

"Get yer papers, get yer papers! Double 'omicide on Fifth and Broadway! Killer unknown!" 

It was 1949 now, a brisk October morning, and Zoroscia Roronoa, Zoro for short, was getting angrier by the minute. The nineteen year old was walking to work. It was only a few blocks, but the short distance had enough of a crowd to get him bristling.

The up and coming cop wasn't a big fan of people. They were pesky and loud. Rude and annoying. And most of all, they were in his _damn way_. Shoving past the screechy newspaper boy, Zoro impatiently fixed his cap and shoved his hands into the pathetic little holes in his uniform that were apparently supposed to be pockets. The early morning chill hadn't picked up yet, but that didn't stop the massive hoard that was now out and about on the sidewalk.

Granted, the massive hoard consisted of about 10 people, but we can disregard the facts.

Four years had passed since the infamous murder of his parents. The event had left Zoro feeling empty and cold. Not only that, but it implanted an irresistible urge for revenge and the young adult was more than happy to give in. He needed something to do with his time, anyway.

The youngest police man on his squad, Zoro had already shot through enough cases in September alone to earn a short vacation. He didn't exactly want it, but took it anyway. He would spend the time as he usually did: tracking down Don Luffyone's men.

His Captain, Smoker, had warned him not to poke into business like that, revenge or not. "You'll meet the same end as your folks, Roronoa. Or worse."

The weapons expert ignored the warning, however. Zoro could handle himself and if the mob came sniffing around for him, he'd welcome the opportunity to get his hands around one of the damn gangster's necks.

So with one last huff in the newspaper boy's direction, Zoroscia entered the police station that was nestled on the street corner and went to work.

Most of the information he had was old. The Luffyone family had been keeping quiet as of late. In fact, not much else had been coming up until last week. The most recent little tidbit had been a year ago, when Don Dragon had stepped down and allowed his son to take the head position of the family.

Then, the previous week, the amount of murders shot up around Brooklyn. People were being shot and stabbed left and right. Rich men were killing themselves in suspicious suicides. Important figures had gone missing and Zoro had lost count of how many cars had been set on fire since then.

And no matter how much Zoro insisted that all of the evidence led to the Luffyone family, Smoker refused to send out squads. The seasoned cop refused to stick his nose into territory that was doomed to blow up any second. "Besides," he would add, "Brooklyn's not our territory. Let the other guys handle it."

The whole situation was fishy and Zoro had enough sense to figure out just what exactly was happening. Smoker was corrupt.

Realizing to his horror that his own captain had been bought off, Zoroscia had set off to work alone. In secret, of course. If any of his fellow cops found out what exactly he was doing, he'd be off the pay roll in no time at all.

Unfortunately, he had little leads to go on. No mobsters had been caught alive and Luffyone himself changed headquarters every week, word had it. They were practically untraceable. They worked well. But Zoro was determined and even if he didn't have any good connections, he was resolute on meeting the Don face to face.

But like we said before...

You don't see Don Luffyone unless Don Luffyone wants to see you.

Luckily for Zoroscia Roronoa, that was exactly was Luffyone wanted. And he _always_ got what he wanted.

* * *

The air was thick with smoke and laughter and the smell of expensive cigars and rich alcohol permeated through every corner. For a cheap lounge, it was living pretty well. There were certainly enough whores slinking about to prove that. 

Lip curling in disgust, Zoroscia turned back to his small glass of whiskey, sulking over it. The day had proved to be fruitless. Just like yesterday. This kind of result was becoming a usual thing and only fouled the cop's mood further. Earlier in the day, he had decided to check out the double homicide on Fifth and Broadway. It had been a young couple, out for a night on the town. Both bodies had been pumped so full of lead that they had become unrecognizable.

Sighing heavily and contemplating whether or not getting drunk off his ass tonight would be a good idea, Zoroscia hardly even noticed the haughty female sliding onto the bar stool beside him and ordering a glass of vodka straight up. He also failed to see the crafty little smile the woman was flashing him.

But she was quite set on making her presence known. Leaning in, blood red lips flicked upward in a sly smirk, she spoke. "Hey there, cutie."

Grunting, Zoro hardly spared her a glance. He wasn't in the mood for women. It really wasn't his night, so he mustered up the manliest, grumpiest reply he could.

"Buzz off."

The lady wouldn't take no for an answer. Using the sweetest, most seducing voice she could muster, she flicked out an elegant, manicured hand to feather her fingers down Zoro's inner thigh. "Word around the block is that you're looking for Luffyone."

Zoro couldn't ignore the woman anymore now. Looking sharply from his drink, the young police officer shoved the unwelcome hand from his leg and turned his suspicion-clouded eyes to the stranger. "Who are you?"

"My, my, _that_ got your attention." She laughed softly, turning back to the bar as soon as the bartender slid her vodka across the table to her. "Zoroscia Roronoa, you're a curious man. The Don finds you interesting."

"Does he, now?" growled Zoro, hands itching to go for his gun. Something about the woman made the bristles on the back of his neck stand to attention. Perhaps it was the bright orange hair that swayed gently as her head moved. Or mayhap it was the little pink cocktail dress she was wearing that revealed more thigh and breast than absolutely necessary.

But it most likely was the way that the woman was downing her vodka effortlessly in huge gulps, drinking it as she would any other regular drink. She was tough. How many elegant ladies chugged their spirits like that?

Willing himself to calm down, Zoro turned back to hunch over his whiskey. "What does he want with me?"

"Mm." Dabbing daintily at her lips with a handkerchief, the lady smiled to herself. She kept her voice low. "He's seen you poking around in his business and he likes your nerve. Haven't you heard, copper? He's hirin'. And he wants _you_."

This was certainly news to Zoro. What was Luffyone doing, hiring more men like this? Sending women to recruit more gangster members was a little unordinary. But more importantly... why in the hell was the Don looking for _him?_ When the cop voiced this, the woman laughed, hand lifting to cover her mouth.

"_Why_? You shouldn't even be asking that. If Luffyone wants you, he'll get you, cutie. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"And if I refuse? I'm a cop, lady, you can't expect me to drop my respectable job to join a mob. That's not how things work. You're supposed to buy me off or kill me, not hire me."

"First off..." The woman cast Zoroscia a sharp glance. "The name's Namimore. You either call me Miss Namimore or _Lady _Namimore. No variations. No Nami, no lady, no nothin'."

At Zoro's bemused silence, Namimore continued. "Secondly, we don't really care about that. Luffyone says that if you're really your dad's son, you won't be bought off, and you're too valuable to be killed. You're a weapons expert, right?"

Brow furrowing at the mention of his father, Zoro nodded, hand tightening around the whiskey glass. He didn't dare speak, but his teeth were clenched together so tightly that he probably wouldn't have been able to manage it, anyway.

"Our other weapons expert got killed last night. Hear about that double murder? That was him. Genzo and his wife, Bellemere."

That was enough to unstick his tongue.

"They were your men?" Zoro stilled at this, puzzled. "But I thought..."

"That we did it? Nah. It was another family, we just don't know who."

Ah yes. The plot was undoubtedly thickening. The consistency of a hearty meat sauce. Throwing back his head to down the rest of his whiskey, Zoro sighed and shrugged. The nearby clock read that it was ten minutes to midnight. He couldn't deny, this was the perfect opportunity to get into the Luffyone's inner workings, despite the bizarre way he would be getting in. But still. Being offered a job there was almost... too convenient.

Ignoring the way Nami was eyeing him over the rim of her second vodka, he burped briefly before flicking his cap onto his head and tugging off his over-coat from the back of the bar stool.

"So, Roronoa. Are you in?"

Pausing, Zoro shrugged on his coat. It was now or never. He could take the risk and go with this Namimore. He'd be putting his own family's honor and his job on the line, as well as his life. There was every chance he could die if he made one wrong move.

On the other hand, this meant that he could finally avenge his parents and bring the Luffyone's to justice. It was tempting and Zoro only had a few seconds to fully process it.

Maybe he shouldn't have had that whiskey.

With a mild scowl, he nodded. "Alright. I'm in."

Almost immediately, the casual seductive atmosphere that Miss Namimore had set up dissipated and the blunt woman stood abruptly. Snarling briefly at the bartender who had been in the process of meekly asking for payment, the female mob member motioned with her head to the back of the lounge. "Head out that way, Roronoa. Down the alley way and across the street. The girls will see you in."

Back on alert with hands still craving the feeling of a weapon in their hands, Zoroscia tucked his coat in closer around him and shouldered his way out of the bar to the chilly alleyway out back. He didn't look back at Namimore or say anything else. A procedure like this was to be handled carefully. She obviously was cautious and didn't want to be followed, which was perfectly alright with him. He didn't want the woman around him, anyway.

The alleyway was dark, but empty. That wasn't enough incentive, however, to have Zoro be less cautious than he usually was. Lowering the front of his cap low over his face so that it hid most of his green hair, the young cop walked through the narrow alley. It emerged on a silent, but well-lit street. Directly in front of him was a small apartment building unlike the one that he himself lived in.

The night was quiet and the sky clear. With the vivid moonlight and the street lamps, there were suspicious shadows being cast all over the place. Keeping his gaze directly in front of him, Zoroscia crossed the empty road and stumped directly up to the apartment.

_Rosywoods Apartments. Guaranteed to leave you smiling!_

That's what the obnoxious little sign said next to the doorway, anyway. Already starting to feel the misgivings, Zoro shook his head at the little phrase and shoved the door open.

The first impression he had of the place was _hearts_. They were everywhere. There were framed pictures of hearts on the walls. Flowers arranged in the shape of hearts. Hearts woven into the carpet, crystal hearts dangling from the grand chandelier in the middle of the lobby. Hell, there were even hearts on the lamp shades.

If not for the two girls idly chattering on the other side of the room, nasty looking knives hanging from their belts, then he surely would have turned on his heel and immediately left. But as it so happened, the bizarrely armed women hooked his curiosity. The mafia usually didn't allow their women to carry about knives or guns, and yet here were two girls hardly out of their teens, carting about live steel.

As soon as the heavy-set metal door clanked behind him, the pair fell silent, eyes traveling across the room to set on the grumpy looking cop who was wrapped up tightly in his overcoat. They blinked, looked at each other, looked back at Zoroscia, and then proceeded to fall over themselves scurrying back through the door they had been standing near.

Those must've been the girls Namimore had mentioned. Eyebrow quirking in the now silent lobby, Zoro sniffed and unbuttoned his coat as he made his way over to the door. He only hesitated for a moment, hand twitching on the door handle, before he turned and walked through.

The heart theme, thankfully, ended in the lobby. This was a plain room like any other. Probably a back room used by the apartment owners. The two girls now sat at a desk, looking up at him expectantly. Or, at least, one was. The other was very occupied with waxing a small pocket knife and didn't bother sparing Zoro a glance.

These girls appeared to be on guard duty. Grunting, Zoroscia politely slipped his hat off and nodded to the first woman. His sharp eyes took in the sight, storing away the information for later. She looked the least distrustful, anyway. With brown hair cut into a gentle style down to her shoulders, the woman's features seemed to be more inviting, even if there was a butcher knife and revolver placed on the table alongside her. The other one, on the other hand...

With tightly curled ringlets of a light brown color growing down to her shoulder blades, the other girl seemed to be in a foul mood. Her nimble fingers expertly played over her butterfly knife as she waxed it and in the brief moment that she lifted her head and met Zoro's eyes, she clearly said through her cold eyes that if he made any wrong move, he'd be getting that knife through his gullet.

The cop took all of these facts in within seconds. He frowned slightly. These girls were toughened by the mafia but somehow still maintained their lady-like ness. The mob was getting cleverer by the day. Once again, the man found himself asking, "Since when had they been hiring women as associates?"

"Officer Roronoa, we've been expecting you." The first one, the one actually paying attention, said, breaking through the police officer's thoughts.

"So I've noticed." replied Zoro wryly, referring back to how he had just startled the two not a moment before. The girl shrugged, unruffled, and nudged her partner.

"Russiano, show the guy over to the back."

The curly-haired girl stopped her movements, glancing at the other out of the corner of her eye. "Can't you do it, Fratelli?"

"You owe me."

Russiano, with a grouchy 'hmph', set down the knife and stood while Fratelli smiled apologetically at Zoro. "Sorry about this. She didn't get much sleep last night and she almost always acts like a bitch, anyway."

The "bitch" comment elicited a smirk from Zoro and another 'hmph' from Russiano, but she said nothing. Instead, she turned and walked away from the table to the other end of the room, giving Zoro full view of her well-armed hips.

And aside from the multiple little daggers and knives that were decorating the girl's waist, the way that her hips were swaying from side to side as she strode over to the door definitely caught the cop's eye.

What? He was a guy, wasn't he? It wasn't often that he met even semi-respectable girls in Brooklyn anymore, anyway. Prostitutes were hardly even women anymore, but usually property, if the right people had their way.

Perhaps Russiano shouldn't have been wearing that ruffled pencil skirt that appeared to be fashionable these days. Even the frilled-collar blouse she was sporting wasn't entirely safe for a respectable community. Yeah, she was definitely a mafia woman, through and through. Her sense of modesty stopped a fraction short somewhere.

Not wanting to get caught oogling, Zoroscio hurried forward to catch up to the cranky woman. He hadn't even noticed the wooden door that was hidden in the corner of the living space. Russiano was currently knocking on it. Once, then twice, then a double tap. There was a brief silence, broken only by Fratelli's innocent little patter of her heeled toe on the wooden floor.

After what felt like ages, there was a dull "come in" from inside the room. Now Russiano chose to show a little more emotion than just "pissed off." She smirked, pushing open the entrance and motioning for Zoro to walk in.

"Go on in, copper. Mind your manners." With a leer and a wink, she shoved past him to return to her seat, clipping his shoulder as she left and leaving the unamused cop to walk in alone, which, after rubbing his abused arm, he did so.

As soon as his body passed the doorway, the exit behind him became blocked. Someone had closed the door behind him and in the poor lighting, Zoro couldn't even see at first where the hell he was.

There was a soft clicking sound somewhere and a small flame appeared in the darkness. It was a lighter. Zoro trained his eyes on the sight, still tense and ready for some fight or flight action. The mysterious person was lighting themselves a cigarette and the tiny fire quickly disappeared again with another muffled snapping sound.

"Namimore, my dear, if you please."

Immediately, light flooded the room, momentarily stunning Zoroscia. He managed to recover just as fast by blinking rapidly.

"The hell..." He muttered, rubbing at his left eye as he took in the occupants of the room.

"Took you damn long enough, Roronoa. We were getting impatient." The voice of Lady Namimore registered behind him. So it was she who had shut the door behind him. And that meant that she wasn't the one in the middle of the room...

No, indeed, the one seated in the center of the area at a huge, antique desk was most definitely not the boorish orange-haired woman. To begin with, it wasn't a she, but most definitely a he. And _he_ had perfectly normal colored hair. It was a common shade of banana yellow.

More lackeys. No Don Luffyone.

Zoroscia resisted going for his gun then. There was something about the blonde that immediately made him distrustful and this slow procedure of going from associate to associate was getting annoying. "Who the hell are you?"

"You're very rude, you know that?" The smoking man said in a low voice, leaning back in his chair. This allowed Zoro to get a full view, but it wasn't much. The thick yellow hair didn't reach past the mobster's ears and half of his face was shaded with the blonde locks, anyway. It wasn't that that set Zoro's shackles on end, though. Nor was it the little chin hair that the man had or the way that he was blowing circles with his cigarette smoke.

It was the _damn curly eyebrow_ that was resting over the blonde's only visible eye. Zoro's own choppy eyebrows twitched at the site and it made his stomach curl. Who the fuck was this guy that he was carting around a monstrosity like that on his face?

So horrified was the cop that he almost missed the man's next words.

"You really should be gettin' down on your knees right now and thanking me for not killing you. You were rude to Miss Namimore before, and that, to me, is a very serious offense. But since you're a newbie and don't know shit, I'll let it go." The blonde blew out a stream of smoke to the side, leaning forward again in a very "Let's get down to business" manner.

"The name's Sanjino. That's all you need to know. As I am the Don's _Consigliere _(2), you'll report anything you do to me, capisce?"

Zoro started at the name. He _knew_ this man. He had been in the newspaper several times. Mainly for being kicked out of bars. The claims and complaints had been that the man had hit on one too many women. Figures. Give a guy a flashy zoot suit and a nice hair-do, and he'll think he's a ladies man.

"You're saying this like I've already joined. What if I want to back out of this? Right now?"

Namimore moved forward to seat herself on the edge of the desk, laughing softly. "Hear that, Sanjino? He's wants to back out."

"Yeah." A strange look passed over the blonde's face and he nearly seemed to choke on his cigarette smoke, but he hurriedly recovered. "Let me get this out while you're here, Roronoa."

Zoro frowned, arms crossing over his chest as he listened.

"You've been hired by the Don _himself_. Not by me or the darling Lady Namimore, but by the big man. You either accept this or you're dead. There ain't no other alternative here."

"Alright, alright..." Zoroscia muttered. How many more times was he going to have to sit through these blunt death threats? Nevertheless, they were having an effect. A feeling of foreboding rose up in his throat. This wasn't going to end well. This _definitely_ wasn't going to end well. "I'm in."

Sanjino sneered around his smoke. "_Good_. We thought you'd see things our way. Now, back to business. You're an associate now. A hired man, but you ain't a member of the family yet. You'll have to earn your way there with your skills that Luffyone seems to really like."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?"

This was the question that Sanjino had been waiting for. "Your first hit'll be simple. We want you to keep working with that police crew of yours for now and help us get the other cops off our backs. Some of 'em have been bought, but not all. You do that well, you might just get a promotion. Hell, you're already getting some fuckin' good benefits now that some of our soldiers _never _had."

Zoroscia irately shoved back the mental screaming in his head that were protesting that this whole situation was _wrong_ and completely against his morals. It was past the point where he could get out of this and if he didn't go with the flow now, he'd just end up dead. So instead, he'd milk it for all it was worth. It'd be a ride to even get some goodies out of the job while working on his revenge.

"Benefits?" He smirked slightly, noting how annoyed the blonde looked. Something about seeing the other man upset cheered his spirits.

"Yeah, benefits." Sanji nodded, taking another deep whiff of smoke. "Don't be getting' cocky, though. You'll be getting paid well for all your jobs, depending on how well you do 'em. And you'll be getting helpers. Someone to get you in on how you should be behavin'."

"I don't need help." the cop immediately said, scowling. "I like to work alone."

Sanjino waved off the remark. "And you will, as soon as you prove yourself. Oi, Fratelli and Russiano!"

The two guard girls were instantly in the room, looking alert. "Yessir, what is it, Mr. Sanjino, sir?"

The weird look came back on the Consigliere's face. A silly little grin that Zoro supposed was meant to look gallant tilted the blonde's lips upward as he stood to hurry over to the pair.

"Girls, what have I said about the Mister stuff? Sanjino or even Sanji will do me fine. I don't want to have any formalities between us, after all."

"Oh, no, Mister Sanjino, sir, we couldn't." Fratelli insisted, shaking her head as Namimore hid her giggles behind her hand, staring pointedly at the loose sweater the girl was wearing and her trousers. Zoro was surprised he hadn't noticed Fratelli's fashion choices before. It wasn't often that he saw girls wearing sweaters with stiff-collar blouses underneath. Perhaps she was a trendsetter of sorts.

"You're too kind, Mr. Sanjino, we'd _never_ allow ourselves the pleasure," added Russiano, smiling lightly.

"Ah, girls!" The tall blonde practically swooned, taking a step back and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. "You are too polite and well-mannered! I don't deserve you, really!"

Taking the time to kiss each of the girls' hands repeatedly, Sanjino then returned to his desk, clearing his throat as he struggled to attach the serious, badass mafia look to himself again.

"In any case, Zoroscia... Russiano there will be the one help you with our weapons storage, along with passing messages along to you and getting you to the right places. She'll be your secretary of sorts." He glared briefly at him. Zoro blinked at this. Was that a hint of jealousy he had spotted?

"We'll have other members of our crew come along in the next few days, but for now, you have your assignment. Head back home, get a good nights rest and all that. You'll be hearing from us."

Sensing that the meeting was coming to a close, Zoroscia ran a hand through his short hair. "That's it? You're just gonna let me go? No blindfolds or drugging?"

"Well..." Namimore suddenly leered, eyes bright. "If you insist."

"What, hold on, I didn'-"

The last thing Zoroscia Roronoa, the 19-year old cop and son of Roronoa Senior, heard that night was the evil cackling of the Lady Namimore as he lost consciousness from a well-aimed sucker punch to the head. The first sounds of his brand new life as a member of the mob in the up and rising city of New York.

Things were only going to get more interesting from here and the impending headache that he was going to get the next morning were proof of it.

* * *

(1) Italian, meaning _The Boss of all Bosses_. 

(2) Italian, meaning an advisor to the family. They wield great power and are usually quite close to the Don himself.


	2. Hit Two

Chapter two, coming at ya. It's short.

* * *

Capo di Tutti Capi 

_Hit Two_

* * *

Zoro hadn't realized that after a week, an entire seven days, that his life would be so... so... what was the word? 

Unchanged.

After the young cop had awoken in his bed, his jacket thrown over a nearby chair and his shoes set neatly on the floor, he had scrambled up, only to be hit with a massive headache. A brief examination of his apartment proved that everything was in order. His valuables, wallet, gun, badge, and such were left in a careful pile on the bedside table and the apartment door was locked.

Whoever had brought him back home was at least courteous.

But now, a week later, Zoroscia was beginning to get antsy. He hadn't received any word from the Luffyone family since, and the long amount of time was setting him on edge. Nevertheless, true to his word but somewhat reluctantly, the police officer took on every single case relating to a suspicious case that reeked of mob-work. There weren't many, after all, the mafia worked in a way that it _wasn't_ supposed to be detected easily.

Five cases. All of murder, ranging from a single death to a total slaughter in a back-alley in Brooklyn. The five files rested currently on his desk, mostly untouched.

The only way Zoroscia could keep the rest of his squad off of his back was feigning an interest in the cases and work on them himself. Or, really, _not _work on them.

Because of all of his cases, the green-haired man had mostly nothing to do for a week. It was nerve-wracking and his paranoia grew at a dangerous rate. So much that he didn't stay much in his office anymore. Always locking it before he went, the man often went out for long walks, which oftentimes ended up at a local bar. He was careful to keep to himself and even now put in an effort to avoid the men he worked with.

So that is where one could find Zoroscia on that chilly October afternoon in 1949. Stumping down a crowded avenue, lost in his thoughts, the police officer was once again avoiding the station and instead wasting time.

And, indeed, that was how Russiano found him. Cap tugged low over his face and bundled up in his long-coat and carrying the usual scowl, Zoroscia Roronoa.

The curly-haired mobster snickered to herself, walking behind him a few paces, her presence going unnoticed for the time being. She appeared to be in a better mood than the week before. Her wide, pin-stripe pants swished along her ankles, beneath the trendy trench coat she was wearing. Her hair was up in a loose bun and eyes shielded from the sun with a fedora.

Patiently biding her time, Russiano kept up the stalking of her pre-occupied pretty for a few more blocks before going in for the kill.

She snatched out with a manicured hand, grabbing the back of Zoroscia's coat, and, taking advantage of the millisecond of startlement from the cop, the woman dragged him into the nearby alley. It was dark and naturally, the crowd they left behind on the main street was too occupied with its own affairs to notice anything.

Moments later, her hand was smacked away and she was pinned down by a set of glaring, somewhat bloodshot eyes. "It's you." Zoro growled, hands itching to practically strangle the woman that had frightened the shit out of him.

"Watch your hands, rookie." The woman crooned casually, looking amused at Zoroscia's twitchiness. A sly smile curled the ends of her lips as she looked up at him. Folding her arms over her chest, Russiano tilted her head slightly, one heel beginning to tap a pattern into the cement floor of the alleyway.

"How's your week been going?"

"Hmph." Zoroscia suddenly turned away, torn between relief at finally receiving word from the mobsters in a way that didn't involve a gun to the head, and annoyance at the fact that of all the people, _this_ woman had to be the correspondent. He impatiently fixed his jacket, still scowling. "You guys have connections everywhere. Shouldn't you already know the answer to that question?"

"Yeah." Russiano replied casually, leaning back against the building. "But we don't monitor your psychological state."

The girl suddenly winked. The usually innocent gesture made Zoro uneasy.

"That's what I'm here for." She chuckled, bangs swaying in the light breeze.

Zoroscia's brow furrowed in suspicion. He tucked his hands deep into his jacket, looking away from the curious brown eyes. "I'm fine." He groused, keeping his voice to a low rumble.

"Good!" Russiano said happily, moving to adjust the tie of her coat. "Then you'll be well enough for a meeting tomorrow morning. It's a Saturday, so I'm sure you can make time."

"As if I have a choice." grunted Zoro, watching as the female mobster reached into an inner pocket in her trench coat, half convinced that she would tug out a firearm.

Instead, a small note was shoved into his hands. Russiano was standing next to him now, firmly making eye contact. She was still grinning. Probably from amusement and pleasure at his discomfort and impending doom. "Tomorrow, then, around nine. Don't be late. The address is on the paper."

She moved past him, heading back out into the main street again. As an afterthought, Russiano unexpectedly turned his head back. "Oh, and try to look a little happier. It's such a beautiful day out, after all."

Zoro looked up at the sky above him. It was smothered with dark gray clouds that told of an incoming storm. However, when he looked back to Russiano to contradict her statement, she was gone.

Instead, the cop turned his attention to the paper. It carried a simple address. Zoro frowned. It seemed that he'd be heading out to the suburbs tomorrow morning. What the hell was he in for?

* * *

The next day found Zoroscia standing outside a humble, two-story house in the suburbs of New York, clutching the small note in his hand as he slammed the door of his car shut. Whatever this place was, it didn't look like a meeting place for gangsters. The small huddle of young children playing nearby was proof of that. Had Russiano just been pulling his leg? 

That's when, after scanning the wide bay windows and the roses planted beneath them in the front yard, Zoro noticed the mailbox. In gold, curving letters, the large black thing had "Sanjino" encrypted onto it.

This was the Luffyone's Consigliere's house. The gold words practically spelled "Doom" for Zoro.

He thought back to the bizarre blonde. His hair-do, his revolting eyebrow, and the attitude in which he carried himself around women. The last thing the young cop wanted to do was walk into his _house_, of all places.

Nevertheless, he didn't have any choice in the matter. The scrap of paper had Sanjino's address on it, and while Russiano had looked unbelievably amused when she passed on the orders, she didn't seem to be the kind of person to pull off dangerous practical jokes like this.

Bracing himself for anything, hand twitching near the handle of his pistol that was buried deep in his coat, Zoro walked slowly up the small pathway set in the middle of the cared-for front lawn.

The journey was too short. Soon enough, he was standing in front of the painted white door with a crystal handle. His stomach was twisted. Not from nerves, but from how much he _did not_ want to enter the building.

There'd probably be prostitutes about the place or something.

Wrinkling his nose and simultaneously taking in a deep breath of the misty morning air, Zoroscia grabbed the door handle and turned it, not knowing what could possibly be waiting for him on the other side. He swore to himself, if there were any more _hearts_ anywhere, he'd leave.

As it turned out, a simple foyer was waiting for him. And after convincing himself that the nearby coat stand was _not_ going to actually attack him, he discarded his shoes by the door. If he was going to be Sanjino's guest, he might as well be polite. Noting that two pairs of men's shoes and two sets of high heels were there as well, Zoro tugged off his hat and plucked it onto the still suspicious looking coat rack before finally venturing into the house.

All in all, as he walked down the hallway, he had to say that the house was tastefully done. No hearts, but mostly softer tones. Not that he was a design expert or anything of the sort. Mostly, he would say, everything looked... _nice_.

The foyer led out into a broad, long hallway, half of which was taken up by stairs leading to the second floor. To the right was an open doorway leading to what looked like a lounge. As he stumped down the hallway in his socked feet, he noted the right hand door, which was closed, but didn't explore any further.

Down the hallway he walked, being careful to make no noise. He heard voices at the far end of the corridor and made his way towards them, but cautiously. Zoro figured that there probably weren't any threats to him here, since they were making their presence known, but he couldn't exactly trust Russiano yet. The girl didn't seem to like him too much and could very well have set him up.

The cop stopped at the door. It was slightly ajar and beyond it, he could see a blue carpet ending and a linoleum floor taking up where it left off. There was a strange sizzling sound emitting from the linoleum side of the room. To the left, Zoro could just pick up giggling.

An abrupt loud voice nearby made him yell in surprise, but he stifled it just barely.

"Oi, Sanjino, what the hell!? Why's it taking so long?!"

Zoro frowned. It was the whiny voice of a teen.

Sanjino's reply came quickly. He sounded annoyed and the sizzling sound increased in volume. "Hold on, dumbass, you can't rush these things."

Curiosity taking over, and knowing that his arrival was most likely already long overdue, Zoroscia pushed open the door and stalked in.

About five things happened at once. First, Zoro took in the site of a wide, very clean kitchen with a shiny waxed table in the middle. Second, he noted Sanjino standing at the oven, wearing a bright pink apron and making bacon. Thirdly, the presence of a lanky teen with a mop of black hair became obvious when said teen squawked with surprise and began pointing at him.

"Look at his _hair_!"

Fourthly, after Zoro had managed to take all of this in in the brief seconds he had, Sanjino took that moment to blindly throw a knife in the cop's general direction.

"Oh shit fuck!"

A tense silence followed. Zoroscia straightened from where he had ducked down to his knees. Glancing back at the still wobbling knife embedded in the open door, he turned to glare fiercely at Sanjino.

"What the hell are you-"

"-doing here?"

The two stared at each other, bacon continued to fry in the background, unnoticed. Pointing a spatula at the scowling police man, Sanjino blew out a stray strand of hair out of his only visible eye, not breaking eye contact. Funny, Zoroscia hadn't even noticed that half of man's hair was gelled back, allowing the other parting to fall gently over his eye.

It was beyond Zoro how he hadn't noticed something ridiculous like _that._

The taught silence stretched out between them, only pausing briefly as Zoro turned to tug the blade out of the door behind him so that he could arm himself.

Zoroscia took in the odds. A knife against a spatula. It was gonna be close.

"SANJINO, THE BACON IS BURNING!"

At that point, any tension in the room was tossed out the window as the teen Zoroscia had just barely noticed before dashed to the oven to grab the pan. Without heeding Sanjino's sudden yell of warning or the fact that the bottom of the pan was red-hot, he proceeded to stab at all of the slightly black strips of bacon and shove it in his mouth in an attempt to save the food.

The two older men could only stare then as the boy's face steadily reddened. Then...

"HOT! HOT! ITH HOT!"

Chaos ensued. Zoroscia's eye twitched. The moronic teen began running around the room, screeching and fanning his mouth as Sanjino hurried to grab a glass of water for him. Meanwhile, two familiar females rushed in from the connecting room, guns out and eyes narrowed.

"Sir! Is there a problem?"

"We heard that..."

Russiano and Fratelli's fierce words teetered off at the end as they took in the scene. They dropped their offensive positions, allowing the firearms now to hang loosely from their fingers.

"Sir...?"

"WAAA-gurgghh..." The black-haired boy's shouts gurgled down into muffled moans as he snatched up Sanjino's offered glass and chugged down the contents. Then, not bothering to fill it again, he dove for the sink, sticking his entire head beneath the faucet to lap at the cold running water. After a full minute of gulping and heavy breathing, the teen sighed in content, settling down to sit on the linoleum floor and pant his way back to a normal heart rate.

Silence filtered into kitchen. Zoro still stood with a knife while Sanjino returned to the rest of the breakfast food that he was preparing. The girls blinked, exchanging brief looks before breaking the hush completely.

They started up a giggle fest, holding onto each other for support as they progressed to all out laughter. Zoroscia's eyebrow rose even farther. There was something seriously wrong with this mafia group.

As Fratelli and Russiano, tucking his guns away and still somewhat hysterical, headed back into the other room, Sanjino broke Zoro out of his daze. He shoved a plate of pancakes into his hands, simultaneously snatching away the knife as well.

Zoro looked down at the sweet-smelling food. His stomach grumbled noisily at the sight of the well-prepared cooking (although he'd never admit it). "The hell you want me to do with this?"

Sanjino frowned at him, armed with a spatula again. Despite the oddity, the weapon choice seemed to fit the blonde. "Take it into the living room, bastard. I don't know why the fuck you're here, but you better help if you _are_ going to waste space in my house."

"What about him?" Zoro suddenly glowered, nodding towards the boy, who was currently occupied with poking at his scalded tongue. He had no idea why the girls had referred to him as "sir," though. Perhaps he was just higher up in the ladder than the rest of Don Luffyone's lackeys?

Sanjino didn't spare the boy a glance, returning to the oven. "He'll be fine, just go."

The police-officer had no choice but to turn on his heel and stalk into the carpeted living room. There was a set of sofas with a large glass table in the middle. Half of it was already occupied with food. The two girls were seated alongside each other on one of the couches. They seemed to have practically switched outfits from the last time the cop had seen them.

Fratelli was now resplendent in a dark gray dress suit that was secured with a large belt at her waist, her hair falling about her shoulders. Russiano's hair was up again, curls falling around her face. Zoro mildly noted, despite not knowing a thing about fashion, that her hair color matched with the light brown plaid pants she was wearing.

Setting down the plate of food, the cop nodded politely to the two girls, trying to not look as grouchy as he was. He was in the presence of ladies, after all. Even armed mafia women deserved some courtesy.

Russiano smirked, picking at some lint on the tie she was wearing to match the collared shirt and suit jacket. "Get here alright, rookie?"

"Yeah, I got here alright." Zoroscia growled back, suspicious of the superior aura around the girl. Fratelli listened with a grin on her face. "Why wasn't Sanjino expecting me? I nearly got a knife in the head."

"Oh, y'know..."

"The girls like to play tricks sometimes." Sanjino answered from the doorway, carrying four loaded plates at once. He didn't appear angry, but actually regarded the girls with a fond look. "They're so naughty." He crooned. The girls giggled again.

"Sanjino..." The almost forgotten black-haired teen poked his head into the room. "Is breakfast ready?"

The blonde looked over the arrangement of food he had. Zoro did as well. Pancakes, sausages, waffles, eggs, and toast were slowly letting of steam and mouth-watering aromas. Pitchers of orange juice, coffee, and tea were set right in the middle of the table. Sanjino, almost as an afterthought, set down a fifth plate, fork, and knife.

"It's ready, sir. Help yourself. And you..." Sanjino turned to the annoyed Zoro. "You can eat here, too, I guess. The meeting was originally scheduled to tomorrow..." The blonde flashed Russiano a brief look of exasperation. "But I suppose we can do it here, too."

"I didn't want to come here." grumbled Zoroscia, but sat down nevertheless. As soon as the boy tucked in, so did the rest of them. Taking their cue, Zoro set to eating as well.

* * *

Fratelli finally sat back from her empty plate, full of pancakes and such. With a contented sigh, she tugged out a neat metal case and after bustling with it for a moment, managed to extract a cigarette from the thing. She popped the tip into her mouth. Zoro raised an eyebrow at this, but continued eating. Russiano was still occupied with her huge stack of sausages and waffles to notice. The two were on their eight plates already. 

Not bothering to ask the whole group, Fratelli looked directly to Sanjino. "Mr. Sanjino, sir, do you think I could maybe borrow a light?"

Sanjino immediately dropped everything. Including a loaded fork and a knife, which skidded off of the plate and into Zoro's lap. Ignoring his muffled grunts of protests, the Consigliere stood to lean forward over the table, fumbling with something in his jacket. Fratelli, apparently used to this, waited patiently until the blonde mobster managed to find his lighter. Smiling in a charming fashion, he flipped the top open and extended it towards her. "Anything for you, my sweet Fratelli. Anything."

Fratelli smiled happily, settling back into the couch to take a deep pull of her cigarette. "Thank you, Mr. Sanjino."

"My pleasure, love." purred the blonde, sitting back to light himself a death stick as well.

Russiano called it quits on eating soon after, settling back next to Fratelli to pat a satisfied tummy and lower her eyes to a lazy half-open state.

"Oi, marimo, stop stuffing your face as if this is the last time you're going to eat." Sanjino snapped, expression changing to a scowl appropriate for addressing his least favorite person in the world.

"Marimo?" Zoro protested through a full mouth. After a quick bit of chewing in swallowing, the cop was free to return Sanjino's glare, motioning towards the idiotic boy with a fork. "Where the hell'd you get that from? And if I can't eat, why is he still eating?"

The girls listened in silence and the boy continued stuffing his face. Taking another breath of smoke from his cigarette, Sanjino narrowed his visible eye at the green-haired man. His eyebrow twitched. "You're Marimo 'cause your hair is exactly like it. Zoroscia the Marimo."

Fratelli giggled from her place. "It's a good gangster name, after all."

"Almost as good as the Gangster of Love." Russiano noted, chewing on her lip.

Zoroscia turned his blank stare from the women to Sanjino, who beamed. "Ah, girls, you know that that name makes me blush..."

"But it's so true, Mr. Sanjino, sir!"

"Really!"

"Oh, girls..." Sanjino ran a hand through his hair. "You really are too good to me. Anyway, to answer your question..." It was back to scowling for the blonde. He turned his attention back to the flummoxed Roronoa.

"_He's_ still eating, idiot..." Sanjino jerked his head back to the teen. "... because he's allowed. He _is_ the Don, after all."

One, two, three... finally, his mind clicked back into action. The fork that Zoroscia was holding fell back into his plate. "What?"

"You heard me." the blonde shrugged. "This is Don Luffyone. In person."

The Don himself paid everyone else no mind. He was too intent on eating.

"You've got to be kidding me. He can't be older than 16." growled Zoroscia, not daring to believe it. He _couldn't_ believe it. He was eating breakfast with a Don? One of the biggest mob families in New York, led by this idiotic runt?

"That's him." Russiano said from across the table, smiling lazily.

By now, though, the cop had had enough. This was getting too ridiculous. Armed women, meeting places held in regular houses over breakfast, and tween Dons was too much. Roronoa stood. "What the hell is wrong with you people?" He growled.

"Well, for your information..." Fratelli started, holding her cigarette carefully between two fingers. She didn't get to finish her sentence, though. An interruption came along. Yet another thing that Zoro was finding to be nerve-wracking and absolutely annoying.

"Sir! Don Luffyone, sir!"

All five heads turned to see a panting man standing in the doorway, doubled over to clutch at his knees. "Sir!"

Luffyone paused, fork and knife still in poised in the air. "Yeth?"

"Sir, they've captured Don Franky! He needs your help!"

Zoroscia looked confused, so he glanced to each of the mob members to see if this new developement was a good or bad thing. There was gasp from Russiano and Fratelli and Sanjino looked grave. Luffyone slowly chewed through the food in his mouth, eyes turning darker.

Alright, it was probably a bad thing.

"Oh, and..." The messenger paused, still catching his breath. "Lady Namimore said that she broke a nail. She thought you'd want to know."


End file.
